The funeral was simple. No one in my wife’s family was wealthy, so my wife and I handled all the arrangements.
Three days later, a man in a suit appeared at our door, and I almost dropped the glass of water I was holding.
He was a lawyer, carrying a stack of files. After verifying my identity, he handed me a red folder and said,
“According to Mr. Velasco’s will, you are the sole heir to all his personal assets.”
I let out a weak laugh, thinking he was joking. “What assets? He was a parasite on my family for two decades; he didn’t even own a decent pair of sandals.”
But the lawyer opened page after page seriously:
A 115-square-meter plot of land right in the center of town, transferred to my name two years ago.
A savings account valued at over 3.2 million Mexican pesos, with my name as the beneficiary.
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